


Spread Our Wings

by ToMarsAndBeyond3



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Dirk is trans, F slur, So is Martin, Suicidal Thoughts, Transphobia, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 14:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14334963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToMarsAndBeyond3/pseuds/ToMarsAndBeyond3
Summary: Icarus ran.Martin watched him go, the box still in his hands, and he felt something stir in his chest as he realized what had just happened. That kid, Icarus, he was Transgender; he was just like Martin.And he was alone, wasn't he?Martin didn't speak much that night, and he for sure didn't tell the others. But as he watched the dying embers of their fire, his brothers huddled around him to protect the sleeping child on Martin's lap, he made a decision.And it all started with getting Icarus alone.





	Spread Our Wings

**Author's Note:**

> This was fairly personal for me to write, and much of what Dirk goes through is based off of what I've experienced as a trans man. I've been wanting to write something with Trans Dirk for a long time, and it turned into this.
> 
> So, to recap. Both Martin and Dirk are trans. Martin has already made steps to transition, but Dirk can't. This takes place about two years after the breakout from Blackwing, which makes Dirk 18.
> 
> Enjoy!

Martin had been going out to pick up his hormones, his false ID and actual money in his hands, when he came across the boy.

He'd just left the pharmacy, the box of testosterone in his hands, and had been just about to make his way back to the van. He'd turned when he heard yelling from the store next to him, and was startled to see a skinny 18 year old boy shoved out of the door. The cashier was nearly foaming at the mouth, pouting his finger at the boy and shouting. He called him a name, one that Martin had heard many times before, and his skin went cold.

_“You trans fag!”_

The worker slammed the door shut, and Martin and the boy were left in silence. It wasn't until the kid looked up, pushing locks of aburn hair out of his eyes, that Martin realized who it was. His gaze locked with the child, who he only knew as Icarus, and for a moment they didn't say anything. 

Icarus had changed since the last time they'd seen each other. The kid had cut off nearly all of his hair, and was wearing colorful, baggy clothes that hid nearly all of his curves. They stared at each other for a moment longer, and then it broke.

Icarus ran.

Martin watched him go, the box still in his hands, and he felt something stir in his chest as he realized what had just happened. That kid, Icarus, he was Transgender; he was just like Martin.

And he was alone, wasn't he?

Martin didn't speak much that night, and he for sure didn't tell the others. But as he watched the dying embers of their fire, his brothers huddled around him to protect the sleeping child on Martin's lap, he made a decision. 

And it all started with getting Icarus alone.

\--

Two months later, the nights had grown colder, and you would be hard pressed to find anyone outside without a jacket. Except, of course, for a small boy with wide eyes. Icarus hugged the ratty, colorful sweater tighter to his chest as he ran through the streets. That's what he was best at, running, but this time it was from an actual threat.

He'd just wanted to use the bathroom.

He paused suddenly as a hunch, one of those familiar tugs of the universe, started pulling at him. It was stronger than the others, even making sense in his panic stricken mind.

Go right.

He followed it without hesitation, letting the universe pull him along on a string as he ran. His legs ached with the effort of running so many blocks, and his chest was beginning to burn; but he just kept on running. Even as the sharp chill of the wind tore at his face, as the lights from storefronts and yells from passerby assaulted him, he ran. He let his feet go wherever they wanted, and the world was able to steer him effectively.

It would have felt good if he wasn't still afraid of being chased.

He must have ran another three blocks before his foot caught on some trash in an alley. Icarus tumbled forward, yelling as he went, and planted face first into the road before him. He looked up just in time to see a large van screech to a halt, stopping just before he got hit.

Oh no, he knew that van.

Oh _no_ , not now!

Icarus held his chest tightly as he scrambled backwards, his eyes flitting wildly. He had two options here, and neither were good. He could either go the way he came, and face the people who were chasing him, or he could stay here and face Project Incubus.

Well, at least Incubus probably wouldn't get him killed.

But he'd spent too long deciding. Icarus’ head shot to the right as he heard the approaching footsteps, and soon enough three livid faces, laughing and jeering and taunting. He heard the words, felt them assault his ears, and he cringed into the ground.

_“Fucking tranny-”_

_“What a weak little girl-”_

_“She's all alone, let's teach her what-”_

There was a loud crack, and Icarus gasped as he saw one of the men hit the ground. His chest shook as he tried to breath, and when he looked up, he froze. The oldest Incubus member, a man with bleached hair and a knack for intimidation, was standing over Icarus, his bat raised towards the two men still standing.

“Stay the hell away from this boy.” His voice was lowered into a growl as he jeered at the men, and Icarus cringed. The men took a step backwards, obviously not having expected this. 

Icarus took the moment, finally, to realize he was crying.

Stupid, stupid Icarus. Always wrong, always helpless; just the weak little girl everyone thought he was. He curled forward, grabbing his knees, and buried his head.

It was the better move. Icarus wasn't able to see what happened next, but he heard it well enough. He heard the words the men shouted, the way they became aggressive. He also heard the way Incubus One jumped in front of Dirk, and the sounds of two more unconscious bodies hitting the ground. Icarus tried his best to calm the shaking his body was experiencing. If Incubus could just feed on him already, he could go find an alley to cry in.

The familiar blue light, and that empty feeling he was looking forward to, never came. Someone crouched down next to him, breathing softly.

The shaking got worse.

“Can't stay here, boy.” Icarus didn't understand how the tall man knew to call him that; no one had ever called him a boy before, except himself. “They're gonna be wakin’ up. Mind if I get 'ya into the van?”

Icarus dared to peek up, and was startled to see that Incubus One's face was showing nothing but concern, and something softer, almost like kindness. It was just surprising enough for Icarus to nod. The hunches came back as he stared at the man, and it had been such a long time since he'd felt this particular one that he didn't even know what it was at first.

_Safety._

The oldest Incubus wrapped his arms around Icarus, picking him up off the ground. It wasn't hard; Icarus was severely underweight. He liked it that way. How much he ate, that was something he could control. In the book of his own life, it was probably the only thing he could control. Sure, it made him weak, but he didn't mind.

If it caused him to die, Icarus wouldn't mind.

Icarus collapsed into a pile as he was placed in the back of the van, the blonde haired man jumping in after him. The sweater was big enough to hide his face in, so he did just that, becoming nothing but a shaking, sobbing mess in the corner. Incubus One settled down next to him, and slowly started to run his hand through Icarus’ hair.

“I'm Martin.” The man said, once the van had started back up. Icarus frowned to himself; he'd never considered the fact that Project Incubus probably had names too. Maybe the others-

The others.

There were still three other members of Incubus in this van with him.

Icarus shot up straight, his breathing starting to quicken again as he glanced around the dark van. Martin was still next to him, a hand on his back to steady him, but they weren't alone. There was a man with bright eyes and a beanie on the other side opposite them, holding a small bouncing child in his lap. Up in the driver's seat, another man with long hair was driving them, occasionally glancing back.

Project Incubus.

“I'm Martin.” Martin repeated himself, and then started pointing to the others around them. “That's Gripps. That's Vogel. And that there's Cross.”

What strange names, was his first thought, which was quickly followed by _what are they going to do to me now?_ He wanted to say they were going to kill him, but Icarus wasn't that lucky. Besides, the way Martin was currently holding him, it was hard to believe they'd ever been aggressive at all. Martin leaned forward, frowning.

“You got a name, boy?”

Icarus shook his head as he felt the tears hot in his eyes again.

“How do you know that?” Icarus whispered. There was no way Martin could have known he was a boy, other than the transphobic remarks that were just thrown at him. “You can't know that.”

“Know what?” Martin's frowned deepened as he took in Icarus’ expression.

“That I'm a boy.”

Icarus hid his head again.

After a moment, Martin touched his knee; there was something in his hands. Icarus dared a glance, and as soon as he saw what Martin was holding, he froze.

“Don't think it'll fit. Too big, I think.” Martin placed the black binder in Icarus’ lap as he spoke, nodding to himself. “But better than nothin’, and better too big than too small, boy.”

Icarus stared. He didn't say anything, but Martin must have gotten the message, because he pulled him in for what Icarus could have sworn was a hug. Martin wrapped his arms around the boy as he began to sob loudly, keeping him secure in the moving van.

“You ain't alone, boy. And you're as much boy as Vogel.” Martin spoke in a low, gruff tone, his voice barely even discernable. Surely, only Icarus could hear it. “I know it feels like it ain't that, but it is. I was the same way, but I got to change, and you're gonna too, one day. The Rowdy Three are gonna help, 'ya hear?”

What Martin didn't say, what he was thinking, was that he had no idea Icarus had ever been alone. He'd always assumed he had some sort of friend, maybe another Project, who was there for him to rely on. But no; he'd just been all alone, fending for himself, trying to battle off the after effects of Blackwing on his own.

It just wasn't fair.

“You can't help me.” Icarus shook his head. “You're the bad people. You're supposed to scare me and take, whatever.”

Martin shifted uncomfortably.

“We ain't doin’ that no more. Promise. You need help, boy.”

Help.

The last person to say that to him was Riggins, and look how that turned out.

Icarus looked around again, looking at everyone else in the van, and then glanced up to Martin.

“My, I-” Deep breaths, he could do this. “My name is Dirk.”

Dirk.

“Dirk.” Martin nodded, smiling softly and sharing a look with Gripps. “Got a last name?”

Icarus, Dirk, shook his head.

“Sorry you gotta use my old binder, Dirk.” Martin rubbed his back, drawing calming circles. “But we'll get 'ya one that fits.”

“Yeah!” A tired, squeaky voice came from elsewhere in the van. It was a child's voice.

“Oh.” Dirk nodded. “Alright.”

This was insane.

Dirk turned to press his face into Martin's chest, hiding himself from the world. The low rumble of the van, mixed with the darkness and the exhaustion all combined to make a drowsiness rise up, and Dirk could feel himself drifting off to sleep. He didn't fight it, although usually the thought of being unconscious with Project Incubus around made him nearly sick with anxiety. Maybe for once, though, he could be safe.

Yeah. That sounded nice.


End file.
